


Dying Dreams

by RubyGlass



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Swap, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Anal Sex, Angst, College Student Eren Yeager, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Older Eren Yeager, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Non-Omniscient, Pierced Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Punk Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Reincarnation, Smut, Tattooed Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Top Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Two Shot, Younger Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), everyone is 18+, riren - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:05:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6869722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyGlass/pseuds/RubyGlass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They didn’t know him. And that was okay. Because if they didn’t remember him, that meant they didn’t remember the horrors of their past lives, either. They didn’t remember the horror of watching their friends fall around them one by one, or the terror of watching the titans breach the walls. And that alone made him happy."</p><p>In a world where Titans are a thing of the distant past, few remember the horrors of the war fought to free humanity from their walled confines. Eren Jäger, reborn and rechristened, spent twenty-one years praying Levi Ackerman wouldn't remember, and hoping that he would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I've been working on this for weeks, long before my finals started. And I wanted to get it polished off before diving back into my ongoing fics. 
> 
> This is my take on a reincarnation AU. One where you are reborn in the order in which you die, in almost a "parallel" universe sort of thing. You join that time line at the exact moment you leave the previous one, in this case a thousand years in the future. 
> 
> I'm trying to branch out from the Soulmate AU thing and try new tropes. A lot of the readers of The Feeling thought it was a Reincarnation AU, and while I'm not typically partial to the fics with this trope for a number of reasons, I thought I'd try my hand at writing one. Also, this is my excuse to indulge in a little younger, punkier Levi. 
> 
> This is the first half, the second half should be up by the end of the week, and will have 'mature' content.
> 
> Let me know what you think! I hope you like it!

There are some things that no one should ever be forced to remember. The sight of comrades, and friends, falling in battle is one of them, the constant fear of death looming is another, as is one’s own gruesome demise. There are certain memories that should be locked away and forever forgotten, suppressed by death and its clean slate. 

The universe is not so forgiving. 

Though he had been Christoph Holter for much longer than he ever answered to Eren Jäger, the name still felt foreign to him sometimes. There were days growing up where he found himself writing his old name on the top of school assignments, or signing it on the back of a check. When he was younger, he would even frustrate his parents by ignoring their calls, not realizing they were meant for him. 

He never told them of his other name, or his other life. Even as a child he knew if he told them the details of his past self the best he could hope for was their disbelief. So he kept it in: the trauma of death, destruction, and war. He read about the events of the life of Eren Jäger in the history books, though his name and the names of others like him were scrubbed from humanity’s communal memory. It had apparently been decided some time ago that the names of Titan Shifters had no place upon the pedestal next to those of humanity’s saviors: names like Erwin Smith, or Mikasa Ackerman. 

Names of people he knew, once, of people he fought alongside. Names of people he’d seen in passing since he’d opened his eyes in this new reality. 

People like Marco Bodt, seen across an airport terminal with a beautiful woman hanging off his arm, or Sasha Brause behind the counter of a coffee shop serving him a macchiato. They always looked happy, recognition never registering on their faces. 

They’d have known him, if they’d remembered. It wasn’t like he looked terribly different than he had in the past. Though he was no longer a teenager, those years having long passed, his eyes were still the dazzling shade of green they’d always been, and his hair the same chocolate brown that just wouldn’t lay flat, though he kept it cropped much closer to his head these days. 

Still, it was clear: They didn’t know him. And that was okay. Because if they didn’t remember him, that meant they didn’t remember the horrors of their other lives, either. They didn’t remember the horror of watching their friends fall around them one by one, or the terror of watching the titans breach the walls. And that alone made him happy. 

It was strange, then, seeing recognition on someone’s face for the first time. Even with the different hair style, and the small beard he’d grown in high school, she’d known him. And he’d known her, despite the glasses she wore, and the blonde hair that she’d dyed green and styled into spikes. 

Lara, she’d introduced herself after their brief staring match. Lara Koenig; university freshman, eighteen years old, and his new hall mate. 

They bonded quickly, never bothering to dwell that they had been enemies longer than they’d actually been comrades, or that they’d actually tried to kill each other, and on several occasions. Sharing something as significant as memories of a former life was a bond that bridged most divides – including attempted homicide and war crimes, apparently. They were comrades of a different sort now, the kind with traumatic memories of a blood soaked past. 

He let her call him Eren, and she let him call her Annie, though neither of them had answered to those names in longer than they could remember. She was still quiet, and apathetic. Still tough as nails, and didn’t much care for his jokes. But that didn’t matter. Finally, there was someone to talk to. Someone who understood the confusion, and the pain. Someone who lived with the same memories and the aches of old wounds. 

They spent hours talking about their past lives, recalling things and verifying hazy memories half remembered: 

“Do you remember that time Sasha got in trouble the first day of training?” 

“I saw Jean today, I think. He looked like he was still in grade school, though. It was hard to tell.” 

“What do you think Mikasa and Armin are doing right now? Did they get reborn too?” 

But mostly: 

“Why are we the only ones that remember?” 

Something to do with being a titan shifter, they both assumed, though neither ever received confirmation. The universe tossed them back to earth without a guidebook or set of answers for the big questions. They discovered small things, though. Like that their birthday’s both matched their execution days, a memory neither of them could shake: June 5th and 6th, Annie’s the day before his. 

It wasn’t until after they moved in together – into a small, cramped, two-bedroom shit-hole off campus with a stove and walls too thin, that Annie brought up something Eren had been trying successfully to suppress for two decades. 

“What do you think happened to the Captain? Why was his name forgotten like ours?” the question itself was innocent enough, but Eren found he couldn’t answer. She let it drop after that, knowing the pain of stirring up bad memories. She didn’t apologize, though. Just left him sitting on their old, brown couch with his tears. And for once, he appreciated it. 

It was his final year of university when he first saw him, in the hallway of the apartment building he and Annie had moved to three years before. He remembered the day well, couldn’t forget it if he tried. It was the first day of the new year; it was hot, hotter than it had been in weeks. The leaves on the trees were still green, and the excitement of new classes still there. 

He knew immediately, would know those quicksilver eyes anywhere, even without their usual heavy bags that marked lack of sleep and exhaustion – both mental and physical. His eyebrows were still sharp, and furrowed, though his nose seemed crooked, like it had been broken and reset improperly. His hair was different, as well. Still black as night, but gone was the trademark undercut, exchanged for a small bun pulled to the back of his head. 

He was taller, too – having grown up with the benefit of a proper diet and routine access to sunlight this time around, Eren assumed – but still no more than 5’6 at most, and scrawnier than before; less the gymnast’s build and trained muscle of the past. Eren also noted, with a smirk, his ears were decorated in a row of silver studs, matched by the metal barbell piercing his eyebrow, and he swore he could see the edges of a tattoo peeking out from under the collar of the convenience store uniform the other male wore. 

He was much younger than he had been, too. Eren had never noticed before, not ever having seen the him in his youth for comparison, but looking upon him here it was obvious: frown lines gone, stress-induced flecks of gray absent from his hair, his face still fresh and littered with small red blemishes that Eren recognized as acne scars. It wasn't like the he ever looked that old to begin with, but Eren could see it now: there was no way he was older than eighteen in this life. 

He caught those silver eyes with his own that first morning, and it froze him in place; his heart in his throat, stomach churning into nausea. It was too much to bear. That night he briefly tossed around the idea of moving apartment buildings so he’d never have to see him again, never have those particularly painful memories drawn up from the depths from whence he’d buried them. 

Annie, unwilling to move, talked him down from it, saying he’d probably never run into him again, assuring him that there was no way the younger male would remember anyways, he hadn’t recognized Eren, everything would be okay. He wouldn’t remember. 

He couldn’t remember, Eren wouldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t let the Captain relive the deaths of his friends, and comrades. Of the men and women who fought under him, and around him. Of Eren himself. The man had suffered for so long, Eren refused to let him continue to do so in this life as well. 

He’d ensure the Captain never remembered, even if it meant never seeing the man again. 

###### 

###### 

The guy kept staring at him. 

It was awkward. 

He didn’t know why he did it, but it kept happening. 

The first time it happened – the first time he passed his strange, brunette neighbor in the hall –was on the way home from his latest shift in the minimum-wage hell that was standing behind a convenience store counter all night, alone. Their eyes met – his catching the shimmering green globes blown wide in shock as he continued towards his door. 

They nearly stopped his heart, and it was only once he’d reached the safety of his own apartment that he’d noticed he’d been holding his breath, and his face was damp. 

It was strange, the feeling that struck him when he knew those green eyes were glued to him. 

He tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the pain clenching his chest, or the breath that suddenly went missing because of his obnoxious neighbor with no sense of boundaries. But he couldn’t. It made him feel weird: uncomfortable and fidgety. Like he’d seen those eyes before. Like they were somehow important, something he shouldn’t ever have forgotten. 

Maybe he’d seen something similar in a dream, once. Or caught the brat’s eyes in passing on the street. It made no sense, then, that they weren’t exactly eyes you’d easily forget: bright and the color of the sea. It wrecked his brain as to just why they made him squirm the way they did, why they evoked emotions a stranger’s eyes shouldn’t, why they made him feel like crying every time they met his. 

“What’s wrong?” His friend-made-roommate asked from the kitchen table where he worked. 

“Nothing.” 

“It’s that hunky neighbor with the dazzling eyes again, isn’t it?” How did this bastard always know? 

“No.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

“Shove it, Schroeder.” 

“You shove it, Sauer.” 

“Clever” He bit back, grabbing his jacket and making his way towards the door for his latest shift. 

“Say hi to your boyfriend for me.” Came the taunt from the kitchen. 

“Asshole” He called back, slamming the door behind him, questioning once again why he’d ever agreed to room with such a jackass in the first place. It didn’t take much to remember that it was probably because he was just as much of a jackass. It was the reason they got along so well for so long, after all. 

His shift began, and ended – another $70 made, another night wasted standing behind a counter selling energy drinks to college kids struggling to finish a last minute paper, and condoms to sketchy frat boys. 

And then, he was walking home. Anticipating their meeting once more, pit already growing in his gut remembering the way those oceanic greens bore into him, making his heart quicken in his chest. There had been a few days after the first encounter where the mysterious neighbor boy had avoided him, but it hadn’t lasted long. And now, it was customary to feel those eyes observing him as they passed at 7:12 in the morning, right on the dot, every time without fail. It had to have been weeks, by now, though he hadn’t been keeping track. For all the strange things those eyes made him feel, it was weirdly comforting knowing they were trained to him as he kept his own grays to the carpet. He never questioned the queerness of it, just kind of accepted it as it was. 

So what if those eyes made him feel like crying for a reason he could never pinpoint, so what if he kind of liked that they’d watched his every move for roughly ten seconds every day, for almost a month. That’s just how it went, no use in trying to figure it out. 

It was a night just over a month after their first encounter that he dreamt for the first time since he was in grade school. He dreamed of walls, and beasts, and flying. And green eyes. 

It was all too real, like an out of body experience almost, one that blurred realty with the subliminal dream world. Colors that were too bright; faces that seemed familiar, yet had no names; sounds and smells that were engrained into his memory, that he’d never heard or smelt before. It shook him, throwing him off for the next twenty-four hours. Making him do things he normally wouldn’t, stupid things he’d probably regret later. Idiotic things, such as feeling the need to speak to the strange neighbor with wandering eyes. 

“Can I help you?” He asked the following morning, shocking the staring asshole out of his trance. 

“Um, no?” The guy was obviously uncomfortable that he’d been caught, looking like he would rather be anywhere else than standing here and talking to him. He couldn’t help but wonder why, then, was this asshole constantly eyeing him up when they passed in the halls? 

“You sure about that?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then why do you keep staring at me?” 

“I don’t.” it came as a guffaw, and was met with a scoff. 

“Sure you don’t.” The strange neighbor looked like a deer caught in headlights: brilliant greens wide in fear, trapped and afraid to so much as move. 

“I’m Leo.” He offered, extending a hand for a shake. 

“Chris.” Came the terse reciprocation: large, warm hand gripping his smaller, colder one tightly, sending shivers up his spine. 

“I’d appreciate if you stopped staring at me, Chris.” Cheeks blushed red and he found himself smirking. “I’m in room 2G. I live with my friend, but I’m new in town.” The guy still looked at him like he was going to bite his head off. Weird. It was not the reaction he had been expecting from Mr. Stalker Eyes. 

"2E.” the other man responded hesitantly, still looking like he was about to bolt. 

“I guess I’ll see you around or something?” He asked, not really knowing what he expected in return. 

“Yeah, I guess so. Bye.” And with that the mysterious brunette disappeared down the staircase. 

###### 

###### 

Leo. 

It’s too close to Levi for comfort, he decides later, sitting in class. 

Their conversation was brief, but even that was too much. 

God, even his voice was the same: smooth and deep, disinterested yet somehow taunting. It still did things to him, things he’d never dared to tell anyone about. It stirred parts of him he thought were long dead, things he thought he’d buried years before. Things that should have died with Eren Jäger. 

He should have just changed his schedule, or started leaving later – anything to offset seeing his face every morning: different though it may be, it was still _his_ face. It was still familiar, and handsome, and haunting. 

He had tried, briefly. For three days he tried leaving the apartment two minutes later than normal, to avoid seeing him in the halls. Just two minutes would create enough of a distance between them so their eyes would never have to meet again. He wasn’t sure if he could awaken anything in the teen that would trigger memories of their previous life, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. 

Anything, he told himself, to ensure that Levi remained happy in this life, that the memories of everyone around him dying, of watching Eren murdered at the hands of the government he’d fought for, of watching their world slowly collapse around them, would remain suppressed, like they should be. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to go through with avoiding the boy that wore the Captain’s face. 

After just three days he gave in to temptation: he just had to keep seeing him. Had somehow convinced himself he the ten seconds they passed each other in the halls every morning would be fine if it never evolved past that. It couldn’t evolve past that – for his own sanity, but more importantly for the Levi, and Leo’s, happiness. Still, he refused to deny himself this one comfort: seeing the look of life on the face of the man he’d loved, seeing him look happy. Not beaten down and bloodied, not worn with years of fighting: both against the titans and his own demons. It gave him peace of mind, knowing that even after everything that man had lived through, in his next life he was able to live peacefully. 

It was all Eren had ever wanted for him, after all. And who was he to take that all away from Leo? And Levi? No matter what they had, or hadn’t, been to each other in the past, Eren was a stranger to him now. And it had to stay that way. 

After that morning they first spoke Eren vowed to bury Levi, to lock him away in his mind, for good this time. He was dead, and a boy named Leo wore his face. Levi lived no more. 

He cried himself to sleep that night, the reality finally hitting him. He had always held onto a sliver of hope that the Captain would remember – even if it meant remembering the horrifics of their past, it would mean remembering Eren along with all the bad. What they had meant to each other, what they had been for each other. 

He and Annie remembered, after all, so why not? It wasn’t that crazy to think. Maybe Levi would find him someday. Corner him in a café, or on the street, draw him into his arms, hold him tight, and call him Eren. 

That dream died with Leo. 

###### 

###### 

He woke in a cold sweat: body shaking, hands clenched into fists, breath ragged. His eyes searching the room for a danger he knew wouldn’t be there. 

It had just been a dream, he tried to tell himself. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. 

Then why had it felt so real? 

Why could he feel the shackles on his wrists, the hard stone beneath his knees, the cool metal of the blade as it rested against the back of his neck? 

He shivered as the dream slowly separated from reality and tried to regain his bearings. 

He knew the faces that stared up at him as he anticipated the harsh swing of the blade. Faces familiar, faces that had no names. Looks of guilt, of anguish. Tears and wails that weren’t his own. 

He dreamt of own execution, and he hadn’t been shedding a single tear. It was as if he’d accepted it, welcomed it almost. 

What kind of dream was that? 

It was familiar, like he’d seen it all before. 

Maybe this wasn’t the first time he’d had that dream? 

He’d had weird dreams in the past, when he was young: dreams of dark streets, and angels flying overhead. Dreams that confused reality and fiction. They’d stopped for a time, but returned in full force now. 

Dreams of flying over city streets. 

Dreams of riding through empty fields on horseback. 

Dreams of walls surrounding him, seeming to go on forever into the distance. 

Dreams of green eyes that looked at him softly. 

Dreams of large arms that held him tight, telling him that everything would be okay. He would never be alone. That they’d see the ocean together, one day. 

Strange dreams that made him feel strange things. Made his heart ache in ways it never had before. Made his fingers twitch with impatience, and irritation. 

He wished they would stop. Wished he could go back to dreamless sleep, and waking without his heart racing in his chest, or his stomach at his throat. 

His wishes went unanswered 

His life continued: sleeping through to the afternoon; waking with a start in the middle of a half remembered dream of faces he couldn’t place; standing behind a counter selling mind-rotting drinks and cheap condoms to overworked university students, trying not to think about the strange dreams that plagued him; passing his mysterious neighbor, no-longer unnamed, in the halls, offering a nod of acknowledgement but never anything more; falling into his sheets and trying not to dream; and repeating it all over again the next day. 

After a few days, his dreams became less erratic, more focused. No longer did he dream of flying, or of walls, or of faces he couldn’t place. 

All that remained were emerald eyes. Eyes he knew. Eyes he’d seen before. 

“We haven’t met before, have we? Like, before last month?” He asked one morning, having spent his entire shift working up the courage to get the words out. 

He expected a number of things. For the other man to look at him like he was insane, for him to deny ever meeting before that day, for him to confess to being a stalker. 

He did not expect jade eyes to shoot wide in shock – or was that fear? And he certainly did not expect the strange neighbor-boy to sprint down the stairs past him without so much as a word in response. 

He didn’t know how to interpret that, so he didn’t try. 

Instead, he tried to sleep. And failed. 

He couldn’t get the look of those eyes blown wide with shock out of his head. He’d grown accustomed to them making him feel strange things for apparently no reason, so the feeling of utter despair at the sight shouldn’t have been screwing with him nearly as much as it was. 

But here he lay, trying to ignore the weight in his chest that was pulling him to make sure the stupid asshole was okay. He wasn’t even sure what he had said to illicit such a reaction, what had scared the neighbor boy off. He knew he didn’t look the friendliest, if anything he looked kind of like a punk asshole ready to bite the head off the next poor sap that so much as looked at him funny. He knew that. But so far, Mr. Wandering Eyes hadn’t seemed bothered by it, and kept right on staring. 

Leo kicked the sheets off; curiosity was getting the better of him, he told himself. It wasn’t the ache in his chest at the fear on the other boy’s face. Couldn’t be. They’d said no more than a handful of words to each other. He didn’t know the guy, or care about this strange asshole with his stupid green eyes. All he wanted to know was what he’d said wrong. That was all it could possibly be. 

He found himself pounding on the door to 2E. It was only noon, a time when he normally was fast asleep and dreaming of piercing green eyes and warm arms holding him. But here he was, staring down a blue-haired chick that introduced herself as Annie, eyeing him carefully as she let him in. 

“Eren is in class.” The name sent shockwaves through his spine, and though he was sure he’d never heard that name before – that he knew the name of the individual whose apartment this was, of who he’d come to see, and that that certainly was not it – he somehow found he didn’t need to ask who she meant. 

He just knew. 

“I’ll wait. I need to speak with him about something important.” 

She nodded, eyes narrowed in what could only be described as distrust. 

“Don’t fuck with him. He’s been through a lot.” 

And he found himself nodding, as if he understood. And implicitly, he felt like he did. Though they’d exchanged words once, and only a series of glances otherwise, somehow the information was there. Not specifics, perhaps it could be called a gut feeling, maybe. He supposed it was the general ability to tell, to see the pain inflicted by a difficult life reflected in another person. That was the only explanation he could produce that made any sort of sense. 

“I know. I won’t” She stared at him for a moment before huffing and leaving him alone on their couch. 

###### 

###### 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr ](rglass.tumblr.com)  
>   
> 
> My Soulmate One Shots: [Meaningless Words (Riren - Rated M)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6678349) and [Stuck (Ereri - Rated E)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5936296?).
> 
> My ongoing fics: [The Feeling (Soulmate AU)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5846590/chapters/13475542) and [Sorry (Office AU).](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5769505/chapters/13295287)
> 
> My other One Shot: [What Do You Mean, What Do I Mean "My Bed"?"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6782446)
> 
> I hope you liked it!  
> I'm addicted to Feedback, so please feed my addiction and comment!  
> Much Love,  
> RG


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good lord this was so much harder to finish than I thought it would be. Finals fried my brain, and the since the first half of this had been done for (basically) weeks, I thought it would be no problem to post the first half while I finished up the second and got it proofed properly. But I underestimated how much I was affected by finals, and how long it would take to properly recover, and how much my motivation would be sapped after the semester was finally over, and it took me so much longer to get this to a place I was actually happy with than I ever anticipated. So this is coming a bit late, but I hope that the wait was worth it. I got a lot of positive feedback after the first chapter, so thank you to everyone for the support!
> 
> I hope you like how this turned out. Now, I present the final installment of Dying Dreams.

_We haven’t met before, have we? Like, before last month?_

The words echoed in his head. 

He’d fucked up. 

He shouldn’t have kept seeing him every morning. 

He’d gotten comfortable, and lazy. 

How could he have known? 

How could he have ever figured that Leo would recognize him, that Levi’s memories weren’t totally dead. That the memories of Eren could be too strong for even the clean slate of death to kill completely. 

Though he’d only seen the look once before, on the face of an angsty blonde with an attitude problem, he knew it when he saw it: Recognition. 

The black-haired youth had remembered something, suspected that there was more to Chris Holter than just being a neighbor from down the hall who stared a bit too much. He didn’t know what Leo remembered of Levi Ackerman, or of Eren Jäger, but he wasn’t going to be remembering any more. Not if Eren had anything to say about it. 

He was putting an end to this. He would start leaving later, or move apartment buildings. Something, anything, to ensure that Levi never had to relive the horrors of his past. 

He’d put as great a distance between them as he could without drawing too much attention to it. Without making the other boy worry. Without making him want to seek Eren out and ask questions. Without making him remember. 

Resolved, he wandered back to his building once classes had ended, taking the back stairs just in case. He didn’t want to risk running into Leo again. 

All he wanted to do was to get back to the safety of his apartment, have a good cry in his room, and maybe talk things out with Annie – for all her faults she had a good head on his shoulder, something he took advantage of often over the years. 

But that would have been too easy. 

Once his door was thrown open, there standing before him was Leo, looking even more like Levi Ackerman than he ever had before: Arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, lips pulled into a scowl. Angry – like he wanted to tear Eren’s head from his shoulders, or scream at him to re-mop the floor for the fourth time. 

“What are you doing here?” A frown pulled at his lips as he slammed the door behind him, trying to avoid looking into the living room. The boy stared at him for a long moment from his spot in front of the couch, eyes slitting further. Focusing, like he wasn’t exactly sure himself. 

“I’ve met you before, somewhere.” It wasn’t a question this time, but a statement of fact. One he shouldn’t be able to make. He should have no memories of Eren, or his past life. He shouldn’t be nearly as confident in that accusation as he was. 

“No.” The brunette replied firmly. He wouldn’t let Leo remember. He would come up with something believable, something to make him drop the subject. “Maybe you’ve seen me on the streets somewhere, or in the convenience store you work at.” 

“That doesn’t explain why…” the boy trailed off, as if trying to find the words. “You’ve been in my dreams.” He continued once he’d found them “Since the first time we met. Only, it isn’t you. Or, it isn’t Chris.” He wasn’t making any sense, but Eren knew exactly what he meant. 

“I’m just your neighbor, I don’t know what you're talking about.” 

“Don’t lie to me, Eren.” He froze, heart shattering in his chest as his breath left his body. 

He never imagined he’d hear that name falling from those lips ever again. Never thought he’d hear those syllables in the Captain’s voice again. 

“Where did you hear that name.” He hissed, enraged. Surely this was Annie’s fault. She was going to ruin everything. Make Levi remember, make him hurt again. 

“I don’t know. I just knew it. Your roommate called you it earlier, but it wasn’t her. I feel like I already knew. I can’t explain it.” He was seething now, rage rolling off his body. He was going to tear her to shreds for this. 

“You should leave, Leo.” The words were intended to be cold, but his voice held little bite. It wasn’t Leo he was angry at; it wasn’t him who was a dead woman walking. 

“I’m not leaving until you tell me where we’ve met before. Why you look so familiar to me. Why I knew your real name, and why I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.” his voice cracked under pressure as his voice rose to a shout. “Explain to me why you’re in my dreams every god damned night, only it can’t be you, because your hair is different, and you look younger. And why when you look at me with those shitty green eyes it makes my body feel numb and my chest ache.” Leo paused his rant with a huff before finally adding “Who the fuck are you to me?” He sounded desperate, like he didn’t know where else to turn, or what else to do. He was confused, and alone, and it was killing Eren. 

He stared for a long, silent while, not knowing how to respond. He didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t say anything without his voice betraying him, or revealing too much. 

"Please.” The sound of the Captain’s voice begging him was something he’d only heard twice. It wasn’t something he had ever cared to relive. But, here they were. “Why do I feel like I’ve forgotten something really important. Something about myself, about us.” He was begging, in the Captain’s voice and with the Captain’s silver eyes that bore into Eren. 

“Shit.” He ran his hand through his close-cropped brunette hair, twisting his fingers there and tugging, trying to stop himself from doing anything stupid. 

“I probably sound crazy. I don’t know what makes me think that you can even answer any of this shit, or why I think I know you. But it just…” he drifted off again, eyes darting away from Eren’s own. “it feels important. You feel important.” 

Eren clenched his fists, trying to resist the urge to go to him. To go to Levi like he had so many times in the past and comfort him: wrap the man up in his arms and tell him he wasn’t alone, that it was okay. 

He couldn’t do that. Leo was desperate for answers, and Eren wanted to help ease his confusion. But doing that meant potentially awakening the misery that was the life of Levi Ackerman: something he wasn’t willing to risk. Still, he hated seeing that lost look on the Captain’s face, the pain of confusion in his eyes. His head was playing tricks on him, giving him glimpses from a life he’d lived over a thousand years ago, that he should not be able to remember. 

But Eren couldn’t give in. Doing that would drag dead memories fully back to life, and he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t be the one to do that to Levi, wouldn’t pull him into this life living with those memories. 

“I can’t do this.” His voice was soft, more for himself than for the teen before him “I’m sorry, Levi.” He muttered, not even registering what he had said before the words passed his lips. 

Wait, shit. He hadn’t meant to say that. Fuck. 

“Levi?” Leo’s face scrunched up in confusion, silver eyes seeking, but not seeing. 

“No, Leo. I said Leo.” He tried to recover, but the black-haired youth couldn’t hear him anymore. “Shit, Leo?” He stepped forward into his living room to grab the boy’s shoulders, shaking him slightly. 

This was so not good. 

He’d gone and fucked everything up, now. 

###### 

###### 

_Levi_. 

**_Levi_**. 

The name stole his breath from his lungs and turned his limbs to jelly. He knew that name, had heard it many times before. Had heard it in that voice many times before. 

In Eren’s voice. 

Who was Eren to him? Who was Levi? 

Was _he_ Levi? 

It was too much. 

The very question made his head ache, and his vision blurry. 

He could hear Eren calling to him, panic heavy in his voice. Could feel Eren’s arms surrounding him, pulling him close, their warmth familiar. 

He’d dreamt of this. 

He’d dreamt of these arms holding him, that voice whispering to him that it would be okay. He’d know the feeling anywhere; it was practically engrained into his entire being. 

“This has happened before” He thinks he says the words aloud, though he can’t be sure. 

He can’t process this. Doesn’t even begin to know where to start. 

“Eren, who am I?” He barely registers his own words in his ears, his voice weak and strained. He doesn’t know where the question comes from, or how he knows to put that sentence together: it just forms. 

“Please don’t make me tell you. I’ll leave you alone from now on. Just, please, don’t remember.” Eren is begging him through choked back sobs, but all Leo can register are those four words: 

_I’ll leave you alone._

“No.” His reaction is visceral, and subconscious. He doesn’t think, he reacts. The proposition of Eren leaving him alone again is murderous, somehow. 

He doesn’t even know when Eren would have left him in the first place, all he knows is the pain stabbing him in the chest and the alarm rising inside him. He can’t explain it, doesn’t even try: just goes with his gut. “Don’t you dare leave me again, you shitty brat.” He growls, not really knowing where the words are coming from, just allowing them to flow. They feel right. “I won’t fucking let you leave me again.” 

Are those his arms wrapped around Eren’s back, now? 

Is that cheek pressed into Eren’s shoulder, and his nose in the crook of Eren’s neck? 

“Please, don’t remember.” It’s half-hearted, a waste of breath, he can tell even Eren recognizes that now. He’s seated upon a precipice, teetering over the edge – not entirely sure he should plunge into whatever it is that those beautiful green eyes have stirred up inside his mind, but unable to stop it. 

“Eren, please. Tell me.” His voice is pleading, he sounds pathetic and he hates it. But, as if in response, the other man pulls him in tighter, sobs growing louder, and suddenly the way he sounds doesn’t seem to matter so much. 

It’s several half-chocked cries before the brunette can get any coherent words out. 

“You’re Levi. Captain Levi. Levi Ackerman.” The words settle around them for a moment. He isn’t sure what exactly that means. He isn’t hit with a rush of answers. But still, somehow, like before, it’s like he knew the answer to the question all along. It sounds right, almost obvious. As if, of course he’s Levi Ackerman. Who else would he be? What a silly question. 

“I’m sorry. Please, don’t hate me.” 

“I don’t think I could hate you if I tried.” He mutters, still unsure of himself. Of the situation. But sure of that. “Please. Just tell me what I’m not remembering.” Wet, green eyes stare down at him, hesitant. 

“I don’t want you to remember. I don’t want you to have to relive it. It was awful, you’re better off not knowing. Please, just trust me. Don’t make me tell you.” 

“Eren, please.” 

It’s another round of sobs before the brat can get any more words out, and the words that finally come shouldn’t make any sense to him, but do. They slot in his mind with his dreams like a jigsaw puzzle, and suddenly the picture seems a little clearer. 

“You were the leader of the Special Operations Squad, in the wars with the titans. They called you Humanity’s Strongest. I was a soldier in your team, and a titan shifter that was under your supervision. We fought alongside each other against the titans, and won.” 

He should have called Eren crazy. Should have been dumbfounded by the accusations. But like the name Levi Ackerman, Leo found himself receiving this information as if the answers were in his head the entire time, bound by some invisible force that prevented the memories of the dead soldier he’d once been from being recalled. 

“You’re leaving things out.” He pointed out once he’d finished processing as much as he possibly could, not entirely sure how he knew that too, but not really caring either. Eren gave him a sad look before strong arms crushed him into a broad chest impossibly tighter. 

“We weren’t… involved, if that’s what you’re implying.” His words were small, and quiet. Mumbled half-incoherent into the black hair on the top of his head. “You were my superior, you were supposed to kill me if I ever lost control. It would have complicated things.” 

The little shit was leaving things out, still. He didn’t know what, he just knew there were holes that needed filling with important information. 

“Eren.” He tried to sound threatening, tried to issue a warning with just the other boy’s name. It was only marginally successful. Still, the message seemed to be received, though Eren wasn’t giving him more without a heavy sigh of reluctance first. 

“We were close. I comforted you when your demons got to you, and you did the same for me. We spent more nights in the same bed than I could count. But we weren’t ever romantically…we were never intimate beyond that.” 

“But you wanted to be.” He cautioned, not entirely confident with where he was driving this, or if he was even the one behind the wheel. 

Eren didn’t respond, his face buried in Leo’s long, dark locks loose around the shorter’s shoulders, whole body shaking with silent sobs. 

“I think, I mean I don’t exactly remember, but I feel like I wanted to be too.” Leo’s voice was hardly a whisper, relying on nothing more than his intuition and the feeling in his gut that told him that the man holding him was more important to him than words could ever express. 

“You can’t possibly know that.” The reply was angry, laced with the pain of rejection brewing for a millennium. 

“I can.” 

“No, you can’t.” 

“Eren, shut up.” 

And he does, for a long while. They sit there, not speaking. Just holding each other, relishing in the familiarity of it. Holy shit, it felt so right having those strong, tan arms pulled around him. It was scary, almost, how natural it felt. 

Now that there was a name to those arms and the face in his dreams, things clicked into place easier. The sheer importance of their owner, for one. Along with the name of the strange feeling in his chest at their memory. Things were starting to make more sense. Dreams – memories, as he recognized them now – from the past months beginning to feel less cryptic. 

They weren’t dreams of a strange fantasy world filled with eerily familiar faces and places, but events he’d lived, long ago, that his subconscious wouldn’t let die with Levi Ackerman. 

He thought on it for a long while. The scenes his dreams showed him, the emotions evoked by those eyes, and the boy the belonged to. The tears threatening to form at the sight of them, the clenching in his chest, the amount they appeared to him in his sleep. 

“I think I was in love with you.” He manages. But something about that statement doesn’t feel right. It feels off, and awkward. Wrong, in a way. 

“No, wait. That isn’t right.” He tries to find the error in his words, and correct it. It doesn’t take much time to figure it out. “I think I am in love with you.” 

The brunette’s breath hitches at his words and his body is shoved away and angry, frustrated green eyes desperately seek contact with grays. 

“You can’t just say things like that, you don’t even know me. You can’t love me.” He’s clearly pissed off, and Leo can’t help but want to smirk. It feels almost nostalgic. 

“I do. Well, Levi does, at least. And if I’m Levi, it means I do too.” Green eyes soften, searching his face. 

“You don’t even remember anything. How could you know that?” There is hope hedging its way into his voice now, and whatever part of Levi remains inside him rejoices at the sound. 

“I remember some things.” 

“Like what.” 

“Walls and titans, flying through the air. Being underground in a huge city. My own execution. Mostly your eyes, though.” He replies with a half shrug, trying to remain nonchalant and impassive in these strange circumstances. 

“Your own execution?” It isn’t the information he imagines pulled from his statement, and it come as a gasp. Apparently the other man hadn’t known about that. “They executed you? Why? When? Is that why your name wasn’t in any of the textbooks?” 

“I don’t know why. I just know it happened. I dreamt it.” 

“You were alive when they executed me, you weren’t even in jail. What did they do to you after I died?” He wanted to give the other boy answers, but he didn’t even have them for himself. 

“I wish I could tell you. Maybe one day.” 

“Hopefully not. These memories aren’t fun to live with, Levi…Leo?” His voice was suddenly stern; it wasn’t a tone he associated with Eren’s voice, somehow. 

“Call me whatever you want, brat. It doesn’t make a difference at this point.” He sighed, leaning his head back onto the other boy’s shoulder. “I just want to remember. I hate not knowing, now that things are starting to fall into place. Things feel familiar, or hazy. Nothing is concrete.” 

“There are things I’d rather you not have to relive.” 

“Don’t think that’ll be much of an option at this point.” 

“I’m sorry.” He lifts his head from its resting place on that impossibly warm shoulder to stare at the older boy’s face with a look that has to be pure incredulity. 

“You’re telling me you’d rather not have Captain Levi back, remembering who you are?” 

“If it meant you being happy, not remembering the horrible life you had back then, or your own death, or my death, I’d give you up every time. Shit, Levi, is that even a question?” Eren’s voice is rising in disbelief. He narrows his eyes up at the idiotic brat, biting back the urge to smack him across the back of his head and scold him for being such a shitty martyr. 

He chooses a different route instead: sitting up and staring at Eren on his eye level. Green eyes stained red, still damp from his tearful pleading to stop what was already an inevitability; face flush; eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Gently, he presses his own thin, dry lips into Eren’s: soft and gnawed. It’s brief, and chaste, as Eren remains motionless beneath him, like Levi was a predator whose vision relied solely on motion, and the slightest movement would spell the older boy’s death. With a sigh of exasperation, he pulled away, the brunette’s face flush, greens wide and questioning. 

“Levi?” 

“Just fucking kiss me, brat. You’ve waited two lifetimes already, what the shit are you waiting for?” He’s barely finished his sentence before a pair of foreign lips are urgently crashed against his own, caution thrown to the wind. The salt of Eren’s tears is on his tongue as the kiss is deepened. 

“You really remember me?” The words are muttered against his skin as Eren desperately nips and licks his way into Levi’s mouth. 

“Enough to know how much I wanted this.” He imagined it would be harder to admit, to himself, much less aloud. But the words come easily, and he can’t stop the warm feeling spreading through his body now that Eren is touching him. 

“You’re sure?” Lips stop moving against his and large, warm hands reach up to cup his chin. 

“If I said this felt right, would that make sense to you?” His breath hitches as a finger skims across his cheek, soft and tender. 

“You have no idea.” He shutters as his head is tipped back, soft lips moving against the skin of neck as the words are murmured there. “Like you said, I waited two life-times for this.” 

His hands are tugging at Eren’s short, chestnut, locks, searching for a place to anchor themselves as he forces the older boy back until his knees meet the rough fabric of the couch. Eren falls unceremoniously onto it, pulling Levi down into his lap, and the brunette’s hands are all over him: coasting along the bones of his hips, pushing his shirt up around his chest, tracing hurried lines against his ribs, slipping around his back, and pulling their chests flush against each other. 

He should be more concerned about what has just taken place. He should be panicking, thinking that he’s lost his mind, or that Eren belongs in a psyche ward. He should be taking his time to get reacquainted with Eren before jumping into bed with him, but it feels too damn right. It feels like he already knows Eren, and something about the feel of their skin against each other, and their lips pressed together in a frantic kiss feels like they were made for each otehr. It feels like he has been waiting for this moment for longer than he has the words to describe. 

“How far are you willing to take this?” He asks between sloppy kisses a thousand years overdue. 

“As far as you want.” The reply comes shaky and breathless, lust having thrown the brunette’s mind into chaos. 

“Perfect.” He’s not much better off, but that doesn’t stop him from skillfully working the button of Eren’s jeans open as quickly as he can manage, teasing his way towards Eren’s hardening length.

It’s moments before his touches are no longer teasing and Eren is squirming under his hands. 

“Bedroom?” Eren breaks away, still looking like he can’t believe this is actually happening. And honestly, Levi isn’t entirely sure he can either. 

“Please.” He’s forced back, almost crashing to the ground as Eren jerks to move them to a more private location. Strong arms catch him, pulling him to his feet, then wrapping around his waist as words of apology are murmured into the skin of his neck. 

He waves them off, replanting his hands on Eren as the college student maneuvers him clumsily through the small apartment towards what Levi can only assume is his bedroom. 

A bruising blow to Levi’s elbow against a doorframe, one to Eren’s knee passing the dresser, and they fall carelessly into Eren’s small bed, more or less in one piece. 

His shirt is hoisted over his head, and he hears Eren snort. His eyes shoot up, catching Eren’s bright greens and giving the harshest glare he can conjure given the circumstances. 

“Really, Levi?” Eren’s wipes his face with one hand: massive, knowing grin plastered there, as he nods at, Levi assumes, the tattoo inked into his shoulders. 

“What?” 

“You have a tattoo of the Survey Corps logo. Really?” 

“The what?” And Eren is in hysterics, gripping Levi’s cheeks between his large hands and covering the black-haired teen’s face in sloppy kisses. 

“This is just too perfect. Of course you have a fucking tattoo of the fucking Survey Corps logo, and you don’t even know what it is.” 

“I just thought it looked cool.” He mumbles, forcing a laughing Eren back until he’s flat against the mattress. 

“Remind me to tell you the significance later.” 

“Sure. Now quit laughing. You’re ruining the mood.” 

“Yes, sir, Captain, sir.” Levi is fairly positive his eye twitches in annoyance. He leans in, intending to wipe that shit-eating grin from those perfect lips with a quick bite to Eren’s collarbone. The yelp he receives for his trouble is more than satisfying, and it’s enough to draw Eren back in, it seems, as his hands are back, coasting across Levi’s body, touching everywhere. 

It doesn’t take long for their clothes to vanish, their hands trawling over each other’s bodies, memorizing every detail. Levi can’t remember the last time something felt this good, this perfect. His whole eighteen years leading up to this point now feel empty, somehow. As if he’s been waiting his entire life for someone he didn’t even know existed until a few hours ago: someone who waited twenty-one years not ever knowing if he’d ever find Levi again in this life, or if Levi would ever remember him. The though has his heart soaring, and he reestablishes his dominion over Eren’s crotch, making the taller male writhe under his ministrations. 

Their movements are desperate and frenzied as they try to take in all of each other as quickly as possible, as if they aren’t sure the other won't disappear before it's over. As if they can't be sure this isn't just a dream that they could wake from at any moment. 

It doesn’t take long before Eren is reaching for his supplies buried in a box under his bed and thrusting them at Levi hurriedly, demanding this be taken further without words. 

Levi is all but too happy to comply, popping the cap of the small bottle with such force he nearly tears the hinge. He makes quick work of preparing the older man beneath him, preferring to be inside the other man sooner rather than later. 

He isn’t sure where the desire to take Eren comes from, or the source of the warm feeling of satisfaction worming its way through his gut at the sight of the moaning mess beneath him. It feels like he’s been waiting for this, that it’s all he’s ever truly wanted, even though he didn’t know Eren even existed until today. His mind should be a mess of confusion and self-doubt, but he’s never been more sure of something in his life; even though the source of said confidence is just be another puzzle he should be working through instead of being knuckle deep inside a boy he's said no more than a handful of words to before today. 

But the only thought in his mind is Eren. 

Eren’s moans. 

The feel of Eren’s skin beneath his lips. 

The warmth of Eren’s walls pulsing around his fingertips. 

Eren’s smell, wrapped in the seductive scent of sex and arousal. 

It’s all consuming, and he can’t think of anywhere he’d rather be. 

Eren’s voice cuts through his lust driven haze, urgent and demanding more. Levi’s fingers are no longer enough. He wants to feel the younger man inside him now. He needs this. 

And Levi needs this, too. He won’t last much longer. It makes him feel like he's fifteen again, driven by heavy handed puberty hormones, that, despite remaining utterly untouched thus far, the intoxicating agent that is the sight of Eren Jäger squirming beneath him in pleasure is nearly enough to send him over the edge. 

“Just take me.” Eren’s voice is so heavy with lust it’s nearly unrecognizable, and it has Levi moaning himself as he prepares to acquiesce. 

A quick squeeze to the older boy’s hands, a gentle peck to is lips, and he’s inside Eren in one quick, smooth thrust. 

The sounds coming from the college student should be outlawed they’re so provocative, enough to entice anyone with a dick, Levi's sure. He finds himself gripping into the flesh around Eren’s hips, trying to focus on the sensation of the smooth skin there against his dry fingertips in order to hold on long enough to fully enjoy something that they have been waiting lifetimes for. 

It works, but has Eren whining in complaint beneath him, bucking his hips trying to force Levi to move. 

“I won’t last.” He grunts, securing his grip and giving the other boy’s hips a sharp thrust. 

“Doesn’t matter. Me either.” The words are hardly more than a moan, and they have Levi picking up his pace, desperately climbing closer to his climax. 

It’s rough, and fast, and over way too soon: Eren finishing in his own hand as Levi rides out his mind-numbing orgasm into the confines of a condom. 

He flops to the side, suddenly exhausted, and it’s only then that he remembers that it’s been nearly twenty-four hours since he’s last slept. 

Eren’s speaking to him, but he can’t make out the words. Instead, he reaches out, wrapping his slender arms around Eren’s lithe frame and pulling their bodies as close together as he can before drifting into a dream-filled sleep. 

###### 

###### 

He’s woken by a blow to his back. It has him questioning what exactly is happening, and his spine tingling in pain. 

There is light streaming though his bedroom window, and he briefly wonders if he’s overslept and missed his morning class. Though thrashing behind him quickly reminds him of the circumstances and he sits up, eyes widening as he remembers that Leo has remembered who he is, that Levi’s memories are awakening inside the teen, and that they had slept together. And then Levi passed out, his hold on Eren so tight there was little hope for escape. 

Now, though, the black-haired youth was flailing violently in his sleep: hands balled into fists, eyes squeezed shut, clearly having a bad dream. 

He’s seen the signs more than enough times in his past to know a nightmare when he sees one. Pulling the Captain from uneasy sleep had become routine for Eren Jäger, and instinctively he reached out: sliding his hand through long, black locks loose around the other man’s head, and settling to rub soothing circle into the back of the younger man’s neck and shoulder. If the boy truly was Levi, and Eren had no doubts he was, it should be enough to force the demons back, for now at least. 

It has the desired effect: Levi’s sleeping face relaxing, his arms and legs stilled. 

Still conflicted about this turn of events, Eren took a brief moment for his own selfishness, reveling in the fact that Levi was his, finally. After years of enduring the love for a man he believed he would never obtain, here said man lay: naked in his bed, exhausted from taking Eren in the way he had dreamed of since he was a teenager slaughtering titans in the killing fields beyond the walls. 

He still couldn’t believe it. It had to be a dream. This couldn’t be reality. 

Levi’s grunting drug him from his thoughts, forcing him back to the precarious situation at hand and away from his internal state of awe. 

“Eren?” Levi’s voice is miserable, and desperate. 

“Here.” He lays his head back down, pulling Levi to him, cradling the man in a way that was all too familiar. 

“I think I know why they executed me.” Eren can’t help but gulp, not entirely sure he wants to know the details of this particular saga. He knew the other man most likely heard him, can sense his hesitation, but he can’t be bothered to care. Levi is remembering now, the mechanism holding the devastating memories of his former life at bay irreparably broken, it seems. That, or with the knowledge that his dreams are more than just fictions conjured up by his mind he was able to piece things together more clearly. Either way, Eren had cursed Levi, and Leo, to a life of remembering terrible horrors, it was something he knew he’d never forgive himself for. 

“Yeah?” He feels Levi’s head nod against his chest more than he sees it, tears threatening to form in the corner of his eyes once more, sobs straining in his throat. He was such an awful person. How could he let this happen? 

“After your execution. I, um, kind of lost it.” Eren couldn’t help but look down at Levi now, but the teen was locked in a staring match with a spot on the college student’s chest. His voice taut, telling Eren more than any look on the boy’s face ever could. 

“Did you dream about my execution?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to remember a lot of things, but most of all that.” 

“It isn’t your fault.” 

“It is, though.” He found himself getting angry at Levi’s willingness to just write off the horrible thing he’d done in allowing Levi’s memories to resurface. He wasn’t going to let the other man forgive him this easily, he’d never forgive himself. Levi shouldn’t either. 

“It’s not like you did anything on purpose. And I would have figured out everything you told me eventually.” 

“It doesn’t matter. I got too close to you, it’s because of me that you’re going to remember all the horrible things about that life. Everybody died, Levi. Everybody. All of our friends, and teammates. Your entire squad alone died several times over. We were practically the only ones left by the time they came after me.” He could hear his voice rising, growing harsher as he tried to hold in the frustrated tears. He knew he shouldn’t be yelling at Levi, none of this was Levi’s fault. He wasn’t angry at Levi. He was only angry at himself “You’re going to remember that again. All of it. Everybody dying, you not being able to save them. It was horrible, it killed you inside. You don’t remember everything, but I do. I don’t want you living through that again.” 

“You can't know that it was anything you did. It’s okay, Eren.” Slender arms wrapped around him, pulling their bodies closer until there was no space between them. “I’m not going to have to relive anything. It’s all the past, right? They’re just memories.” Eren’s emotions bubbled over: all the fear, frustration, and anger releasing itself in the form of another round of heavy tears and loud sobs. “And I have you, again. I’ll be fine as long as I have you.” 

“But –“ Levi didn’t let him continue, cutting him off with a forceful kiss. 

“It isn’t your fault, Eren. It’ll be okay. Okay?” the teen’s voice was stern, carrying the weight of authority no eighteen-year-old had the right to bear. “So just shut up, and let me enjoy this.” His sentence was punctuated with a quick squeeze to Eren’s ribcage, and a deep inhale against Eren’s chest. 

Eren complied, trying to focus on willing his tears to stop. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this emotional, had cried this much. He imagined it was after he and Annie discovered each other, though he couldn’t be sure. 

He let Levi hold him, the younger male stroking soothing patterns against his lower back in an effort to calm Eren down. It was a few moments before Eren was able to catch his breath successfully, but still his thoughts ate away at him. 

“What did you mean when you said you ‘kind of lost it’ after my execution?” He could feel Levi shifting awkwardly in his arms: squirming a bit in place, but making no effort to flee their embrace. 

“I’m not sure you want to know.” 

“Tell me, please. The last thing I remember before waking up in this world was looking up at your face, and from what I recall you weren’t freaking out. You were eerily calm, if anything. I was actually pretty upset by that, you know.” He remembered the events leading up to his death well. Traumatic events had a way of burning certain things into your mind whether you wanted them there or not. 

He remembered turning himself over to the military police after the war ended, as a sign of cooperation. 

He remembered Levi visiting him often, telling Eren that he was doing his best to free the young soldier. 

He remembered his sentence being handed down, and the look of a Levi consumed by rage in the gallery of the courtroom. 

He remembered Levi insisting he’d get the sentence commuted, or break Eren out. Something, anything to save the boy’s life. 

He remembered staring up at Levi’s expressionless face from the chopping block, their eyes never breaking contact until the executioner grunted and cold steel met the skin of his neck, and he woke in a hospital room a thousand years in the future, trapped inside the squishy, uncoordinated body of newborn Christoph Holter. 

But he didn’t remember any indication that Levi would “lose it”. Nothing on his face, nothing about his body language. He looked like a statute, if anything, frozen in place. 

“It’s all a bit fuzzy. I remember I didn’t want the last thing you saw to be me freaking out. So I tried to keep it together, for your sake. But after you were gone, I just…” his voice carried off, either not sure what to say next, or waiting for Eren to stop him from continuing. Eren said nothing, and Levi went on, voice strained from the horrors of watching Eren die in front of him fresh in his mind. “I went a little crazy. I think I may have killed some of the fucking guards that tried to hold me back from getting to your body. I can’t be sure, though. The dream was kind of fractured. They threw me in jail, branded me a fucking traitor, and a god damned titan sympathizer. Said I was a threat humanity, or some bullshit. Then they held me for a few years before deciding I was too dangerous to keep around. Something about me being alive and providing a rallying point for their motherfucking opposition, I guess. So they decided to kill me.” 

Eren didn’t say anything for a long while, quiet rage burning inside him, the desire to rip apart men long dead for their part in killing the man he loved tearing through his body. He couldn’t imagine what Levi went through, having to watch him die. Spending those years alone before meeting his own end at the hands of the government he’d fought for so long under. 

“I’m sorry.” Was the only thing he could think to say, though his voice was laced with an anger so course it had him grinding his teeth. 

“Nothing you could have done to stop it.” Levi was too calm, always had been, probably always would be. That had not changed. Eren sighed in frustration, not entirely sure how anyone, even Levi, could keep such a level head in the face of these things. “Besides, I have you now, so it’s a net win, if you ask me.” And Eren’s heart was I his throat, his arms crushing Levi against him. 

“You’re damn right, now you have me.” He buried his face in Levi’s hair as the other man chuckled darkly in response, returning his crushing hug in kind. 

“Don’t you dare leave me again.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“And I’m dying first this time around.” 

“I’m pretty sure I’d follow you soon afterwards, anyways.” 

“Hey Eren.” 

“Yeah?” He inquired, rubbing his cheek in to the smooth hair atop the boy’s head. 

“I love you.” 

“I know, Levi.” There was a swift kick to his shin, and a murmuring about shitty brats, making him chuckle, breathy laughs blowing Levi’s hair up into his face, tickling his nose. 

“I love you too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deciding how to end this was nigh on impossible. But I hope you liked it!
> 
> [My Tumblr ](rglass.tumblr.com)  
> My Soulmate One Shots: [Meaningless Words (Riren - Rated M)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6678349) and [Stuck (Ereri - Rated E)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5936296?).
> 
> My ongoing fics: [The Feeling (Soulmate AU)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5846590/chapters/13475542) and [Sorry (Office AU).](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5769505/chapters/13295287)
> 
> My other One Shot: [What Do You Mean, What Do I Mean "My Bed"?"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6782446)
> 
> C is for comment, that's good enough for me. (Feedback in all forms is appreciated beyond measure!)  
> Much Love,  
> RG


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